Brave
by Ramonks33
Summary: The Huntress. The forgotten Hesperide. The Brave


Brave

**A/N: I do not own Zo****ë**** Nightshade, nor the text from "The Titans Curse" All of that is owned by Rick Riordan. Uncle Rick...heheh!**

At the edge of life, one finds, that one is usually falling from her character. Of what she feels and sees. Supposedly, I assume that is why I let the daughter of Zeus and Lady Artemis herself mend my wounds. I can feel immortality slipping away from me, faster and faster, like the sun as it melts into night

Night. I suppose in my years of serving Lady Artemis, I was always more active at night. It would awaken my senses, my adrenaline. It would heighten my awareness, and I have always found, I am more successful at night. The reason, I assume, I adore the night, is the stars that come out. Stars are always constant. Mortals say they are not, but I know better. Lady Artemis would sometimes be with the Huntresses at night and tell us the stories that the stars tell. So many stories, of love and betrayal, of heroes and villains...stars mark the history of man. Yet, sometimes I assume, Lady Artemis wishes she could change the stars. Re-arrange them to recreate another story, to lift away the sadness and lies of the stories and create a constellation that will tell the true story

"Can't you heal her with magic?"  
A voice rings in my ears, which have heard so many things. Yet this request, is one of the few things that convince me there is still hope in the mortals, in the demigods. I find myself shivering from the wind, which I have never felt before, and I knew the glow that Lady Artemis has given me is fading. "I mean...you're a goddess"

On my Lady's face, I see emotions of sadness and despair cross her face. Yet, like she does, she holds it together like she always has. For the boy's sake I assume. Before this incident, before my time, she would tell the Huntresses her troubles and we would listen carefully. She replies, in the wise voice she'd use to speak to Huntresses, yet hold so much despair "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do. But I can try."

Her hand moves to my side, and I know I must stop her. I know this is my destiny. To die and suffer the Titan's curse, as the Oracle had said that night ago. How insignificant that seemed, that night. We had played Capture the Flag, and I remember celebrating with the Huntresses...Little did I know that the Oracle would deliver my fate moments later. _"The Titan's curse must one withstand, and one shall perish by a parent's hand..."_

I had known at that moment, that I must return to my father, the Titan Atlas, and suffer the fate I had hidden from, for over millennia's. I had hidden to Lady Artemis' side and hidden from the fate, but I had known that I could no longer hide. What was the phrase the mortals would use? Ah, yes "You can run, but you can't hide"

But while I ran and hid all those years, I had tried to serve my goddess the best I could. With all my strength and wisdom I possess. With all the skills I had learned from her. I had seen joining the Huntresses as a new beginning. A new start. To wash away all my sins and come clean and be reborn, by joining the Hunt. A way to shy away from my terrible heartbreak and being disowned by those I once called "sister". How foolish they were, to think I would run away forever. I had told them I would return, powerful and stronger, but I returned, as a Huntress. And with all my power, for millennia's, I served Lady Artemis to make up for the lack of faithfulness I had possessed. My hand raises and grips Lady Artemis' hand.

"Have I...served thee well?"  
Lady Artemis looks into my eyes, and what we yearn to say, but do not dare passes in between. I have served her for over centuries, witnessing terrible and miraculous things she has accomplished. How the violence has grown, and how the miracles have diminished. Years, and years, and yet mortals and immortals alike are still bent on violence. Violence that has never accomplished anything but destruction and despair. Why are we so blind? It is not until you lose something that you long for it. I remember myself, when I had longed for...Hercules' love, and now I diminish it to foolishness. Love is for children. Violence is the for the grown. I have grown from that child, that foolish, lovesick child, to a woman of violence. I had been violent in words and actions, yet Lady Artemis has never remarked it, for she herself has seen many years of violence.  
"With great honor" The goddess, my goddess, responds softly. "The finest of my attendants"

My muscles relax  
My jaw slackens

For over centuries, I have put off rest. I had longed to serve Lady Artemis with such honor and integrity, I never even thought of rest. But now, as I am lifted from her arms, I know that I can now rest. Rest that I have forgotten what it felt like. To not worry about anything anymore and finally give in to the pressure and exhilaration around you.

"Rest. At last" I say softly. I feel the immortality melting away, as finally give in to the pressure of violence around me. I know no one will mourn the death of the lieutenant, of the former Hesperide...of Hercules' "love". Tricks and violence...it seems the two mix away into nothingness...the idea of each is so separate, yet together, they create such madness and anger.

"I can try to heal the poison, my brave one"

Am I brave? I cannot judge if I am brave. It was partly my bravery that tore me from my family. The bravery to join Lady Artemis' hunt. And the bravery that killed me inside. I realise now, if you are brave, you will do something worthy for the world you will have to leave behind. Am I brave? Yes. I am brave.

I look upon the faces of those around me, and see the daughter of Zeus. Thalia Grace. How come we had fought, when we could have been friends? Did we even have a reason to fight each other? For it was foolish, and it seems to me, no matter what the brave ones will do; Man, Immortal and Mortal alike; will be bent on violence. I see in her eyes, she has witnessed much violence in her only 16 years...I have lived centuries and Lady Artemis...Lady Artemis has witnessed so much that it was a miracle it hadn't killed her inside. I assume, of course, it already has

I take Thalia's hand, how strange it feels to be in harmony with this demigod, at the end of my immortality. I want to tell her how I feel inside, and how foolish I was to even start a fight with her, we could have been best friends...or even sisters...

"I am sorry we argued" I begin, holding her hand "We could have been sisters"  
As these words leave my lips, I think of the countless sisters I've raised from the ashes. Huntresses, demigods, nymphs, mortals...even that young girl, Bianca; I saw so much of me, in her. A confused, sad young girl, rising up from the shadows to become a Huntress. Yet, look where she is. And look where I am. We are not so different after all...

"It's my fault" the daughter of Zeus responds "You were right about Luke, about heroes, men-everything"  
Was I right? I cannot say. I learned, you can't read every book, and find every answer to everything, even if you tried. I have strived, my life, to find the answer to who I am. What I am. And what I long for. But, I assume, I have been wrong. Not all men were like Hercules. I turn to the boy, Perseus Jackson, and smile a rare smile. My smiles have only been reserved for Huntresses or Lady Artemis. But now, I find, at the end of my life, I must give what I can give, and take what little I deserve

"Perhaps not all men. Do you still have the sword Percy?"  
The boy brought the sword out, and placed it gently in my failing hands. It feels the same-the rush of the ocean, the winds of the sea, the very power of a riptide inside-as it did, the night I had given it to Hercules. I had been part of its tragic history, and now I find it did wash me out to shore. Wash me away from Hercules and the past, and brought me to Lady Artemis

"You spoke the truth, Percy Jackson. You are nothing like...like Hercules" I weakly say. It's always felt strange, saying his name out loud for the first time in centuries, and millenias. Yet, it feels like I'm letting go of it as well, as though it was a bird I had caged my entire life, inside my heart, and I am now letting it free, as it's host is dying. "I am honored that you carry the sword"

Death must be impatient, as the worst ripple of pain shocks its way through me. It feels just like back then, when I had been abandoned by my sisters, the Hesperides. They are not like me. They will not die. Yet, they are cowards, my "sisters". They never knew hopelessness, nor bravery. In a way, I am grateful I helped Hercules, as it taught me many things. How to be brave. They do not know the cost of bravery. I am suffering the cost at this very moment. Yet, bravery is for the heroes. And hero? I am a hero.

"Zoë..."

I look up again and see the stars. The stars that have watched my every sacrifice. My every failure. The stars are constant. The stars is a place for heroes. For brave heroes. Am I a hero? Yes. Am I brave? Yes. Do I belong with the stories that imprint the night sky, so others may learn? I do not know. I suppose I will never learn. Stars are re-arranged by the Gods and Goddesses hands, to teach mortals and immortals alike, the costs of heroes. Stories that can never be erased. Is my story, of a brave Huntress, belong with the stories of the Gods?

"Stars..." I whisper "I can see the stars again, my lady"

I see my goddess, Artemis, slip a tear from her old eye. Have I ever seen her cry? No. Yet it is touching, to know there is someone who will miss me. My story will not be fully comprehended. Yet the lesson is clear...anyone can be a hero. Even a broken young Hesperide. Even a demigod. Even the mortal who saved us with his man made contraption...heroes have stories, that are not always clear. Yet, those who created these stories, as I myself, will always be haunted by them

"Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight"

Stars are always constant  
Stars are always clear  
They tell stories  
Of fallen heroes  
And of the the Gods

And now I know, as I whisper the sacred word..."Stars"...that the heroes will always be there. As every hero, who dies for man or God, deserve to be up there, as they are like me.

The Huntress. The forgotten Hesperide. The Brave

**Wow. That was long. I really need to quit it with long one shots, PLEASE R&R!**


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